


The Long Wait

by OneShotWonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:12:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneShotWonder/pseuds/OneShotWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is on a hunt alone. He finds the case, does the research, and puts all the pieces together; realizing he is the only person that can protect a family living in a haunted house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Long Wait

When his dad stepped out the door three days ago with a duffel slung over his back and the shotgun in his hand, Dean knew he wouldn’t be back for a while. If he was honest with himself, he was furious. This fight, the one for revenge, had been _their_ fight from the beginning. Ever since they all sat bundled on the car that night in their pajamas, smelling of smoke and looking for all the world like they had nothing left, which wasn’t far from the truth. Now it seemed like John was working toward an answer and the closer he got, the more he shut his sons out. With Sam being gone at college, Dean ended up alone for days and sometimes weeks at a time. He wanted to scream at his dad while he was leaving, he wanted to hit him and shout “This is my fight too! Don’t shut me out when I know you are finally getting answers! Whatever it is, I can handle it.” But the obedience inside him clouded everything else. His dad had molded that into him from childhood, and it swelled inside him, pressing against all corners, leaving no room for emotions and feelings and especially ego. If his dad would have asked him to, he would do just about anything, and even though it should have scared him, it was a comfort. The obedience was all tangled up in love and family in his head, and separating it from himself would be like cutting off a limb.

So he obeyed when his father left. Even though he had about a million questions, he set his jaw and heard his voice ring out in a clear “yes sir!” when John had asked him to stay busy.

The next few days were spent in the local library, pouring over the internet and newspapers from around the country. Calling hunters from South Carolina to Idaho; searching for a case to keep busy.

He was better at the hunting part than the research, and the long hours in front of the computer made him ache for Sam. Sam was always better at finding the cases than anyone, and in times like this he could use another set of eyes.

Finally a contact from hunter in Wyoming threw him a bone and he headed west, driving the Impala into the setting sun.

The case seemed simple enough. A woman died inside her locked house, no sign of a break in, the alarm system on, and all the doors were locked from the inside. She had strange marks on her body and there were already hints of occult references in the newspaper articles. A picture from the paper and a magnifying glass gave him the address, and a few hours at the library led him to find another mysterious death in the house four years earlier. That was enough to get him to at least go check the place out. Seemed like the case was something for a hunter rather than the local police.

He pulled into a highway motel for the night and got settled in the damp room. It wasn’t one of the finer places he had lodged, the curtains were stained and whole place smelled slightly of mold. But the sheets were clean and the liquor store across the street provided Dean with the liquid fuel he need for the night. He huffed onto the squeaky mattress and pulled the manila envelope that contained all the case notes from his bag. He was able to find some information in the local library, but the majority of his intel came from a visit to the police department that afternoon. He wasn’t too comfortable with being anywhere near a police department, but he had no trouble pretending to be a relative of the deceased that wanted more information about her death. He probably wasn’t the best actor, but he knew he was blessed with charm and good looks and it was always surprising how far that got him. Of course, once he was in the police station it was sinfully easy to get everything he needed. One nerdy receptionist with low self-esteem and a conveniently timed phone call for the sheriff, and he was able to leisurely go through all the files they had on the house.

Twisting open a bottle of beer with the rough callus on his palm, he took a long pull and slowly went through each piece of paper, memorizing their contents.

Through all the bits and pieces, and with some reading between the lines, the story of the old house seemed to come together. Dean found out that there had been two more murders in the house, eight years ago. That was as good a pattern as any and he kept an eye out for the number 4 going forward. Going further into the houses history he found out that a girl living there had gone missing in 1972. The family were always suspects in her disappearance, her parents and two younger twin brothers. 

Years after her disappearance, the case had been almost forgotten when in 1992 one of the twins confessed to killing his sister after having a psychotic break. However, no one ever found the body. There had been more strange accidents occurring in the house every four years since the girl's disappearance. Reports of people suddenly moving out, an unexplained fire on the first floor that caused a partial remodel, and even one suicide.

"Yahtzee." Dean whispered to himself when he put all the dates together. All the strange incidents had occurred within a five day period, from November 12th to 19th. Tomorrow was the 14th.

It was hours before he discovered the pattern and the bed was scattered with newspaper clippings, police reports, and housing records. He had finished the six pack of beer and could feel a bit of a buzz in his head as he started stacking papers to clear off a place for him to sleep. He wasn't quite sure what his plan was yet, and he was too tired to think about what to do, so he resigned himself to start fresh in the morning.

\--

The morning streaked in through the windows and Dean woke with a start. He knew he had to get to the house and save these people, and he regretted sleeping in case something had happened to them in the night. Another pang of loneliness hit him while he formed his plan. He could really use another body for this kind of job, and the only ones he wanted were his unreachable dad and college attending brother.

He sighed and resigned himself to take the case alone, even though it would be a bitch and half.

The plan wasn’t a good one, but it would have to do. He originally tried to think of ways to get the family out of the house for the next few nights. But telling them about the spirit was out of the question, and faking a gas leak would only get them to leave for one night before they inevitably figured it out. He went through various other ideas to get them to leave before remembering one similarity about the past cases. The incidents (the murders, fire, and suicide) always occurred in a first floor room, near an east facing window. A drive by the house during the day proved that the window looked into some kind of study, and Dean would easily be able to park on the street and keep an eye on the room twenty-four hours a day. The only problem he would run into is the _twenty-four hours a day_ part. If history proved to be correct, there was a window of about five days where the family in the house would be in danger, and Dean didn’t know if he could stay on the stakeout for that long alone.

__

He parked the car and prepared himself for the long wait. He hated using the family inside as a kind of bait, but he held a fierce belief that he could protect them. Three thermoses of coffee lay in the passenger seat and a shot gun full of rock salt across his lap. He bought a few snacks, but knew he couldn’t eat full meals as that breeds sleepiness. He remembered his dad telling him about training for the marines, and about the war he fought in later on. In the midst of all his dad’s lectures that rolled around in his mind, he managed to dig up the ones about having to stay awake. One thing he knew for sure; food was the enemy. The constant pangs of hunger are the easiest way to keep yourself awake for days at a time, and Dean was going to use that to his advantage. He had his cassette tapes of rock music and knew he could occupy himself in his head for hours, but if he fell asleep, he might not hear or see the spirit show up. So with an iron will Dean sat in the Impala and prepared himself for the long wait, a steadiness in him that bred the constant reminder that he was the only one able to protect these people.


End file.
